


I've Been Blossoming Alone Over You

by barricadebutts



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Post-Episode: s02e08, references to Canon typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barricadebutts/pseuds/barricadebutts
Summary: And then one day, while they’re meant to be working, Kimiko teaches him a sign, alone on a rooftop with a few guns and a crate full of surveillance equipment. This is acceptance, acknowledgment of him trying to be better by giving her space. It’s appreciation and a plea to talk to her on a deeper level, get to know her so her family doesn’t die that second death. It’s simple and it’s deep— it’s everything, and it’s one sign. Frenchie’s already decided it’s his favorite sign because it’s the first she chose for him.That's the crux of it all: he loves Kimiko, and that's dangerous in their line of work. Butcher loved Becca, and they all saw how that had ended up.Or: a deeper look at Frenchie's feelings toward Kimiko and how her teaching him her language definitely doesn't make his feelings for her any easier.
Relationships: The Female | Kimiko Miyashiro/The Frenchman
Comments: 5
Kudos: 87





	I've Been Blossoming Alone Over You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, these kids have caused me some heartache over the last few weeks, and it's all culminated over the finale. This started as a response/introspection into the look of panic that Frenchie had on his face when Stormfront put Kimiko into the headlock during the final fight and escalated somewhat from there to include some insight into them pre-finale and a bit in the gap between the end of the fight to them dancing out of the basement.  
> I've been listening to a lot of Mitski while catching up on this show and thinking about them and was torn between using "Pink in the Night" or "Geyser" for a title. I ended up settling for using a lyric from "Pink in the Night", so that's where this title came from.  
> I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are my own and Grammarly's. Enjoy!

He wants to wake up next to her, wants to hold her and touch her with a casual familiarity that speaks volumes. He wants people to look at them and not have any questions about what they mean to each other. He wants them to be Frenchie-and-Kimiko, no spaces, no room for doubt. He wants all of that and more, but he doesn’t know how to go about it.

In a fit of desperation and self-loathing, Frenchie had apologized on the back of a stolen ambulance and told Kimiko he’d leave her alone. They’re words spoken into the void of miscommunication but Frenchie doesn’t need her to speak or tell him what her signs mean if it means she’ll stay in his life. He’ll give up the pet names and treat her like one of the boys if he can count on her smile and bright eyes whenever Hughie does something particularly amusing.

And then one day, while they’re meant to be working, Kimiko teaches him a sign, alone on a rooftop with a few guns and a crate full of surveillance equipment. It’s a simple sign, one for ‘gun’, which _is_ very relevant at the moment, and warmth floods his extremities in the chill of the September weather.

This is acceptance, acknowledgment of him trying to be better by giving her space. It’s appreciation and a plea to talk to her on a deeper level, get to know her so her family doesn’t die that second death. It’s simple and it’s deep— it’s everything, and it’s one sign. Frenchie’s already decided it’s his favorite sign because it’s the first she chose for him.

The rest of the boys will tease him more than they already have since Kimiko joined their little band of misfits but Frenchie couldn’t care less. His new job is to take every bit of information that Kimiko will give him and commit it to memory as quickly and efficiently as he can. Failure is not an option— not again. The smile present in both her eyes and on her mouth ensures that he won’t disappoint her.

—

She remarks over the bazooka launcher one afternoon that she’s a little amazed he’s learned so quickly. The fact that Frenchie only has to clarify two signs in her sentence is proof in and of itself. The praise elevates his mood higher than it already was at getting to spend time with her.

The boys did and do indeed tease him— well, everyone but Hughie. MM had thought it was kind of nice for both of them at first, but now that they’re nearly able to have whole conversations in silence, MM has fully joined Butcher’s side of thinking it’s annoying.

Despite how this has opened up Kimiko even further, pulled her more fully into their metaphorical arms, she doesn’t teach anyone else her language. So of course, Frenchie doesn’t either— which truthfully only increases the side glances that he earns from Butcher. But Frenchie’s still on the straight and narrow in an effort not to drive Kimiko back into silence.

—

Frenchie couldn't save the last person he loved who met a cruel end, which has admittedly given him a bit of a complex, made him a bit more cynical in the grand scheme. Even now, all these years later, he occasionally feels these pulses of rage and failure and fear return, most recently at the hospital.

Stormfront had been there, and he'd held Kimiko back from going after her. What had all but become their main goal was _there_ , and Frenchie had held her back for the second time. If it'd been someone else there with him and not Kimiko, Frenchie isn't wholly convinced that he would have done the same. It's that complex again, that unwillingness to put someone he loved in danger even if she _had_ still been pissed at him for who knows what. And that was the crux of it all: he loved Kimiko, and that was dangerous in their line of work. Butcher loved Becca, and they all saw how that had ended up.

Frenchie loves Kimiko and yet he doesn't have the signs, nor the words, to even begin to _think_ of telling her— not that he would, given the debacle with the first attempt at a kiss.

So, Frenchie learns her language and tucks her smiles away into the back of his mind to think of later when he'll then transfer them to his heart to keep him warm in that damp basement in Flatbush.

— 

Frenchie knows Kimiko is invulnerable, has seen it with his very own two eyes, and yet, when he sees Stormfront twist her into a chokehold, he almost stops breathing, raising his gun on instinct. For a moment, Kimiko’s eyes meet his, and she almost looks scared. Everyone around them freezes with their guns trained on Stormfront but rather than wait or try speaking, Stormfront twists her hands with ease and snaps Kimiko’s neck.

Frenchie knows Kimiko is invulnerable but nothing can prepare him from seeing arguably the most important person in his life get her neck snapped. The breath catches in his throat and his eyes go wide. If he’d been on an exhale, he thinks he probably would have screamed. The only thing he can do though, while the rational part of his brain catches up, the part that knows how she works, is to empty the gun’s clip into Stormfront.

Even with him, Hughie, and MM all firing into her, the bullets seem to bounce off of Stormfront as she was made of rubber. She doesn’t pay them any mind as she tosses Kimiko’s body to the ground like a rag doll, as if she were a worthless piece of trash— which, knowing who Stormfront is, probably isn’t too far from the truth.

Both sides of his brain fight for dominance as Stormfront goes after Annie and predictably doesn’t get far, and Frenchie’s left to the side feeling useless through it all. He wants to run to Kimiko, check if she’s okay because he _knows_ she should be, but he can’t risk getting in the way, getting hurt himself because Frenchie himself is _very_ not invulnerable like the girls who gradually begin to regain the upper hand.

Kimiko rising to her feet under her own power practically takes Frenchie’s breath away again. The rational party of his brain has won out, and she’s safe, she’ll live. Frenchie wants to thank a god he hasn’t prayed to in a long time. 

The look that Kimiko wears on her face is murderous, and Frenchie thinks he’d fall more in love with her if it were possible. She cracks her neck back into place like some absolute badass and goes to town with Maeve and Annie, beating the shit out of Stormfront.

Like all Nazi villains though, Stormfront musters up enough strength to get away, leaving the three girls standing there, barely breathing harder than normal. Kimiko turns around and catches Frenchie watching them, watching her, and his heart stutters. It’s surface-level shallowness but her hair is windblown and she’s got a shine in her eye that makes her positively glow. 

He wants to hug her, wrap her up in his arms and never let her go even though she’d outlast them all. He won’t hug her though, at least not without her permission because that’s not what they do. All this time they’ve spent together and only recently has she deemed him worthy enough to finally teach him her language. Frenchie’s still walking that straight and narrow path when it comes to Kimiko, and he will not ruin it now in a moment of weakness because he’s glad she’s alive.

Despite it all though, Kimiko approaches him as Maeve wanders off towards the woods, and Annie walks over to Hughie. She’s got some dirt on her but nothing else, and Frenchie sighs, a relieved smile stretching across his lips and his eyes going soft. He can see the same tell-tale shifts in Kimiko’s expression, the ones that’d made him so sure she returned his feelings before, and Frenchie fights with himself to keep it together— to not do anything stupid.

But then, Kimiko’s pulling Frenchie into a hug, an honest to god _hug_ , and wrapping her arms around his waist, tucking her head into his chest and just basking in his presence. To say he’s amazed would be one word for it, but he doesn’t have the time to look for others while she’s still so close. So, for now, he doesn’t think. Frenchie wraps his arms tightly around her back and squeezes back, tucking his face as far down into her shoulder as he comfortably can.

She smells like the shitty shampoo they have in the basement, a smell that’s gradually come to represent _home_. He feels safe then, safer than he has in a long time because she’ll protect him just as he’ll protect her. Frenchie doesn’t believe in destiny but he thinks maybe they were always meant to find each other.

—

Later, when everything’s said and done, they’re alone, Kimiko needing the space and Frenchie reluctant to leave her while the guys split up to tie off some loose ends. Kimiko disappears off into that little alcove/room of hers, so Frenchie turns on the news to watch more of the fallout.

Butcher told them what happened to Stormfront as Vought sat there and lied on national television to fit the narrative that excused their oversight and complacency. Regardless of what Vought says though, the news prattles on about Stormfront's aliases and past and likely will until the next big story breaks and resets the news cycle. Nothing's said for any of the people who Stormfront killed who were wrongly targeted.

Frenchie must sit on the couch for an hour or two before Kimiko emerges from her space and tiptoes over, just as silent on her feet now as she had been at the beginning. The only difference now is that Frenchie doesn't jump anymore when he turns and finds her there. In fact, it's more likely that he jumps when he turns and finds her not there, so used to her presence. One more imprint Kimiko's made in his life.

Now, she settles on the couch, tucking herself close to Frenchie's side and letting her hand fall into the upturned one that he’d turned over when she sat down.

They sit in companionable silence, comfortable as the news anchor talks to her guest. He sneaks a few glances over at Kimiko and watches her for a few moments, her legs crossed on the couch cushion and her socked feet tucked under her thighs. She looks content, slowly relaxing her muscles until she’s almost completely devoid of tone and propped half against Frenchie’s shoulder and half against the couch back.

It feels sickeningly domestic for a few blissful minutes, and Frenchie pretends they could almost be normal. 

All too soon though, Kimiko pulls her hand from Frenchie but before he has time to mourn her loss, she’s tapping his forearm to turn his attention back to her. She just wants to talk.

_“You were right when you were talking to Mallory about Lamplighter. It felt good to avenge my brother but I’m afraid that I don’t feel as good as I thought I would._ ” She almost looks nervous about how Frenchie will react— as if he’ll say he told her so. When she couldn’t control her urges, she lashed out only to feel devoid of that satisfaction she’d been chasing.

Frenchie can’t imagine saying any of these things to her though, can’t even imagine _thinking_ those things. 

Halfway through a reply, he finds that he can’t think of the right words, so Frenchie breaks down and takes both of her hands into his own and reaches as deep within himself as he can to put forth the most earnest declaration he can, to make sure she knows he’s sincere.

“Nothing you did was wrong. You did what needed to be done, and that doesn’t make you bad to not feel what you thought you would. It’s true, we should not kill people to only seek retribution but Stormfront was bad and you are one of the good guys. I _know_ you are. You do not feel good about what you did right now? That’s okay, but you cannot let it defeat you, and if you need help, we are here for you. _I_ am here for you, okay?”

And, despite his better judgment, he raises both of Kimiko’s hands to his lips and places a firm kiss to her spotless knuckles. It’s a gesture of comfort and love, and he needs Kimiko to know how he feels, even if it’s just that he’s willing to be there if she ever needs him.

Try as he might not to, Frenchie looks up at her through his eyelashes and accidentally makes eye contact. She’s closer now than she was a moment ago, Frenchie thinks. This close, her eyes look bigger than normal, wide as if full of hope.

The one good thing about having spent so long not knowing how to talk to her meant that Frenchie was practically an expert at reading the subtle changes on her face— or so he liked to think. Last time he’d gone off his supposed skill at reading her, she’d punched him in the face.

Now though, he’s almost certain that her eyes read anticipation— want. She’s not snatched her hands from Frenchie yet, which is a good sign at least. He should say something, change the topic but the news anchor is still droning on in the background, and Kimiko’s leaning closer to him, her eyes glancing down, lingering on his lips, and then she’s placing a light, barely-there kiss to his lips that feel like he’s just been caressed by a ghost.

His heart rate spikes painfully at the feel of her, his hands tighten around hers, and she still doesn’t pull them away, doesn’t back out of his space or punch him again.

Kimiko’s lips aren’t actually touching his own after a moment, though she hovers as if they were. This close, she’s too blurry to see properly, but Frenchie flits his eyes up anyway and sees Kimiko’s eyes downcast so far they might actually be closed. That’s a nice thought.

Frenchie steps out onto a ledge then, squeezing her fingers before pushing further and kissing her back with much of the same care that she had just demonstrated with him. Sure enough, Kimiko kisses Frenchie back, the kiss longer the time. A part of Frenchie wants to run his fingers over her cheekbones, feel her skin beneath his calloused fingers, but he’s not about to push any boundaries right now, content like this.

Frenchie’s been with people who were aggressive and downright mean, and he’d reveled in the thrill of it all at the time, but he can’t help but think how equally thrilling and axis-tilting this is as well. By the standard of past relationships, nothing even happens but when Kimiko pulls away far enough so that Frenchie can actually focus on her face, a slight flush high on her cheeks, he realizes this is exactly what he wants.

The news is saying something new about Victoria Neuman’s campaign but Frenchie reaches for the remote and changes the channel to the Discovery Channel before stretching out along the length of the couch, Kimiko following close behind. She settles practically on top of Frenchie’s chest, her head falling to lay over his heart. The weight is welcome, and she doesn’t twitch when Frenchie winds his hands around her back for the second time that day.

—

“ _Where to?_ ” Kimiko asks, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. They’re in the doorway to her alcove/room, bags slung over their shoulders, and the last two in the basement.

The truth is, they’ve got a hundred possibilities of where they could go now, all of which will occur together, but none of them come to mind. All Frenchie knows is that for now, they’re safe, and he’d like to take advantage of not being a wanted criminal for a few days— or maybe a month or two.

Frenchie looks at her, long and hard, taking everything in, preserving the memory of her in this place. He should want to forget everything about this dark and damp basement, but it gave them good memories in a twisted sort of way, and he wouldn’t want to forget the good things that happened here even if the bad nearly eclipses everything.

There’s no plan for now. Maybe they’ll take advantage of their newfound freedom and sit on the bus or train until a stop catches their eye— let the wind blow them where it may. Maybe he’ll let Kimiko pick their next destination.

Frenchie says: “ _Dancing_ ,” rather than a destination— holds his hand out to her in a clear invitation for the future, for endless possibilities.

The smile that breaks out on her face— a full smile rather than a half pull of her lips, says everything that it needs to. Kimiko takes Frenchie’s hand and lets him twirl her as they walk to the stairs. He revels in the giggle that escapes her lips, and when she lets go of his hand in a natural end to their little dance, Frenchie can’t help but pick it up again. 

The squeeze he gives her is a gesture of comfort and reassurance. The kiss that he presses to the back of her hand as he draws their clasped hands to his mouth is love and partnership.

They have no plan about where they’re going but wherever it may be, they’ll be together.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the end of the fic! Thank you so much for reading and getting this far. If you've enjoyed it particularly, feel free to drop a comment or kudos, or even come catch me on tumblr @ kolyarostovs.


End file.
